CHAPTER VII
THE HERMIT'S WARNING
As it was now after midday, we concluded to eat our lunch before goingany further, so, sitting down on the rocks, we produced the bread andcold bacon we had brought with us and prepared to refresh ourselves.Observing this, Socrates, who had flown up into a tree when Long Johnthreatened him with the hatchet, now flipped down again and took up hisstation beside us, having plainly no apprehension that we would do himany harm, and doubtless thinking that if there was any food going hemight come in for a share.
I was just about to offer him a scrap of bacon, when the bird suddenlygave a croak and flew off up the mountain. Naturally, we both looked upto ascertain the reason for this sudden departure, when we were startledto see a tall, bearded man with a long staff in his hands, skimming downthe snow-covered slope of the mountain towards us. One glance showed usthat it was our friend, the hermit, though how he could skim over thesnow like that without moving his feet was a puzzle to us, until, onapproaching to within twenty yards of where we sat, he stuck his staffinto the snow and checked his speed, when we perceived that he wastraveling on skis.
"How are you, boys?" he cried, shaking hands with us very heartily. "I'mglad to see you again. Much obliged to you, Joe, for interfering onbehalf of old Sox. I would not have the bird hurt for a good deal. I sawthe whole transaction from where I was standing up there in that groveof aspens. Why did your companion go off so suddenly?"
"I don't know," I replied. "I only just mentioned to him that Soxbelonged to you, when he picked up his shovel and skipped."
Peter laughed. "I understand," said he. "The gentleman and I have metbefore, and have no wish to meet again. Our first and only interview wasnot conducive to a desire for further acquaintance. He is not a friendof yours, I hope."
"Not at all," I replied. "We never met him before."
"Well, I'm glad of that, because he is not one to be intimate with: heis a thief."
"Why do you say that?" asked Joe, rather startled.
"Because I happen to know it's so. I'll tell you how. I had set abear-trap once up on the mountain back of my house, and going up nextday to see if I had caught anything, I found this fellow busy skinningmy bear. He had come upon it by accident, I suppose, and the bear beingcaught by both front feet, and being therefore perfectly helpless, hehad bravely shot it, and was preparing to walk off with the skin when Iappeared."
"And what did you say to him?" I asked.
"Nothing," replied Peter. "I just sat down on a rock near by, with myrifle across my knees, and watched him; and he grew so embarrassed andnervous and fidgety that he couldn't stand it any longer, and at last hesneaked off without completing his job and without either of us havingsaid a word."
"That certainly was a queer interview," remarked Joe, laughing, "and amost effective way, I should think, of dealing with a blustering roguelike Long John."
"Long John?" repeated the hermit, inquiringly.
"Yes, Long John Butterfield; known also as 'The Yellow Pup.'"
"Oh, that's who it is, is it? I've heard of him from my friend, TomConnor."
"Tom Connor!" we both exclaimed. "Do you know Tom Connor, then?"
"Yes, we have met two or three times in the mountains, and he once spentthe night with me in my cabin--he is the 'one exception' I told youabout, you remember. He seems like a good, honest fellow, and he hascertainly been most obliging to me."
As we looked inquiringly at him, wondering how Tom could have found anopportunity to be of service to one living such a secluded life as thehermit did, our friend went on:
"I happened to mention to him that I had great need of an iron pot, andthree days afterwards, on returning home one evening, what should I findstanding outside my door but a big iron pot, and in it a chip, uponwhich was written in pencil, 'Compliments of T. Connor.'"
"Just like Tom," said I, laughing. "He has more friends than any otherman in the district, and he deserves it, for when he makes a friend hecan't rest easy until he has found some way of doing him a service."
"And he's as honest as they make 'em," Joe continued. "If he's a friend,he's a friend, and if he's an enemy, he's an enemy--he doesn't leave youin doubt."
"Just what I should think," said the hermit. "Very different from LongJohn, if I'm not mistaken. That gentleman, I suspect, is of the kindthat would shake hands with you in the morning and then come in thenight and burn your house down. What were you and he doing, by the way?I've been watching you for an hour. First one and then the other wouldkneel down in the snow and chop a hole in the bed of the creek, then getup, walk a mile, and do it again. If I may be allowed to say so," hewent on, laughing, "it appeared to an outsider like a crazy sort ofamusement."
"I should think it might," said I, laughing too; and I then proceeded totell our friend the object of these seemingly senseless actions.
"And do you expect to go prospecting for this vein of galena in thespring?" he inquired, when I had concluded.
"Not we!" I exclaimed. "My father wouldn't let us if we wanted to. Weare doing this work for Tom Connor, whom my father is anxious to serve,he having done us, among others, a very good turn."
"I see," said the hermit. "And this man, Yetmore, or, rather, hishenchman, Long John, will be coming as soon as the snow is off to huntfor the vein in competition with our friend, Connor."
"That is what we expect."
"Well, then, I can help you a little. We will, at least, secure forConnor a start over the enemy."
"How?" I asked.
"You remember, of course," said the hermit, "that sulphurous stuff thatwas cooking on the flat stone outside my door the day you came down tomy house through the clouds? That was galena ore."
"Why, of course!" I exclaimed, slapping my leg. "What pudding-heads wemust have been, Joe, not to have thought of it before. I had forgottenall about it. Have you found the vein, then?"
"No, I have not; nor have I ever taken the trouble to look for it,having found a place where I can get a sufficient supply for my purposesto last for years."
"And what do you use it for?" I asked.
"To make bullets from. I get the powdered ore, roast out the sulphur onthat flat stone, and then melt down the residue."
"And where do you get it?"
"That is what I am going to tell you. You know that deep, rocky gorgewhere Big Reuben had his den? Well, near the head of that gorge is abasin in the rock in which is a large quantity of this powdered galena,all in very fine grains, showing that they have traveled a considerabledistance. That stream is one of the four little rills which make up thiscreek, and if you tell Connor of this deposit it will save him thetrouble of prospecting the other three creeks, as he would otherwisenaturally do; and as Long John will pretty certainly do, for the creekcoming out of Big Reuben's gorge is the last of the four he would cometo if he took up his search where he left off to-day--which would be theplan he would surely follow. It should save Connor a day's work atleast--perhaps two or three."
"That's true," I responded. "It is an important piece of information. Iwonder, though, that nobody else has ever found the deposit you speakof."
"Do you? I don't. Considering that Big Reuben was standing guard overit, I think it would have been rather remarkable if any one haddiscovered it."
"That's true enough," remarked Joe. "But that being the case, how didyou come to discover it yourself? Big Reuben was no respecter ofpersons, that I'm aware of."
"Ah, but that's just it. He was. He was afraid of me; or, to speak morecorrectly, he was afraid of Sox--the one single thing on earth of whichhe was afraid. Before I knew of his existence, I was going up the gorgeone day when Big Reuben bounced out on me, and almost before I knew whathad happened I found myself hanging by my finger-tips to a ledge of rockfifteen feet up the cliff, with the bear standing erect below me tryinghis best to claw me down. My hold was so precarious that I could nothave retained it long, and my case would have been pretty serious had itnot been for Socrates. That sagacious bir
d, seeming to recognize that Iwas in desperate straits, flew up, perched upon the face of the cliffjust out of reach of the bear's claws, and in a tone of authorityordered him to lie down. The astonishment of the bear at being thusaddressed by a bird was ludicrous, and at any other time would have mademe laugh heartily. He at once dropped upon all fours, and when Socratesflipped down to the ground and walked towards him, using language fit tomake your hair stand on end, the bear backed away. And he kept onbacking away as Sox advanced upon him, pouring out as he came every wordand every fragment of a quotation he had learned in the course of a longand studious career. One of the reasons I have for thinking that he isgetting on for a hundred years old is that Sox on that occasion raked upold slang phrases in use in the first years of the century--phrases Ihad never heard him use before, and which I am sure he cannot have heardsince he has been in my possession.
"This stream of vituperation was too much for Big Reuben. He feared noman living, as you know, but a common black raven with a man's voice inhis stomach was 'one too many for him,' as the saying is. He turned andbolted; while Socrates, flying just above his head, pursued him withjeers and laughter, until at last he found inglorious safety in theinmost recesses of his den, whither Sox was much too wise to followhim."
"I don't wonder you set a high value on old Sox, then," said I. "Heprobably saved your life that time."
"He certainly did: I could not have held on five minutes longer."
"And did you ever run across Big Reuben again?" asked Joe.
"Yes. Or, rather, I suppose I should say 'no.' I saw him a good manytimes, but he never would allow me to come near him. Whether he thoughtI was in league with the Evil One, I can't say, but, at any rate, oneglimpse of me was enough to send him flying; and as I was sure I needhave no fear of him, I had no hesitation in walking up the gorge if ithappened to be convenient; and thus it was that I discovered the depositof lead-ore up near its head."
As this piece of information precluded the necessity of our prospectingany further, and as we had by this time finished our meal--which wasshared by Peter and his attendant sprite--we informed our friend that itwas time for us to be starting back; upon which he remarked that hewould go part of the way with us, as, by taking one of the gulchesfarther on he would find an easier ascent to his house than by returningthe way he had come. Hanging his skis over his shoulder, therefore, hetrudged along beside us at a pace which made us hustle to keep up withhim.
"Do you think you would be able to find my house again?" asked thehermit as we walked along.
"No," I replied, "I'm sure we couldn't. When we came down the mountainin the clouds that day we were so mixed up that we did not even knowwhether we were on Lincoln or Elkhorn, though we had kept away so muchto the left coming down that we rather thought we must have got on toone of the spurs of Lincoln."
"Well, you had. I'll show you directly what line you took."
Half a mile farther on, at the point where the stream we were followingjoined our own creek, our friend stopped, and pointing up the mountain,said:
"If you ever have occasion to come and look me up, all you have to do isto follow your own creek up to its head, when you will come to a high,unscalable cliff, and right at the foot of that cliff you will see thegreat pile of fallen rocks in which my house is hidden. You can see thecliff from here. When you came down that day you missed the head of thecreek you had followed in going up, and by unconsciously bearing to yourleft all the time you passed the heads of several others as well, and soat length you got into the valley which would have brought you out hereif you had continued to follow it."
"I see. How far up is it to your house?"
"About five miles from where we stand."
"It must be all under snow up there," remarked Joe. "I wonder you arenot afraid of being buried alive."
The hermit smiled. "I'm not afraid of that," said he. "It is true thegulch below me gets drifted pretty full--there is probably forty feet ofsnow in it at this moment--but the point where my house stands alwaysseems to escape; a fact which is due, I think, to the shape of the cliffbehind it. It is in the form of a horseshoe, and whichever way the windblows, the cliff seems to give it a twist which sends the snow off inone direction or another, so that, while the drifts are piled up allaround me, the head of the gulch is always fairly free."
"That's convenient," said Joe. "But for all that, I think I should beafraid to live there myself, especially in the spring."
"Why?" asked the hermit. "Why in the spring particularly?"
"I should be afraid of snowslides. The mountain above the cliff is verysteep--at least it looks so from here."
"It is very steep, extremely steep, and the snow up there is very heavythis winter--I went up to examine it two days ago. But at the same timeI saw no traces of there ever having been a slide. There are a good manytrees growing on the slope, some of them of large size, which is prettyfair evidence that there has been no slide for a long time--not for ahundred years probably. For as you see, there and there"--pointing totwo long, bare tracks on the mountain-side--"when the slides do comedown they clean off every tree in their course. No, I have no fear ofsnowslides.
"By the way," he continued, "there is one thing you might tell TomConnor when you see him, and that is that Big Reuben's creek heads in ashallow draw on the mountain above my house. If you follow with your eyefrom the summit of the cliff upward, you will notice a stretch of barerock, and above it a strip of trees extending downward from left toright. It is among those trees that the creek heads.
"You might mention that to Connor," he went on, "in case he shouldprefer to begin his prospecting downward from the head of the creekinstead of upward from Big Reuben's gorge. And tell him, too, that if hewill come to me, I shall be glad to take him up there at any time."
"Very well," said I, "we'll do so."
"Yes, we'll certainly tell him," said Joe. "It might very well happenthat Tom would prefer to begin at the top, especially if he should findthat Long John had got ahead of him and was already working up frombelow."
"Exactly. That is what I was thinking of. Well, I must be off. I have alongish tramp before me, and the sunset comes pretty early under mycliff."
"Won't you come home with us to-night?" I asked. "We have only two milesto go. My father told me to ask you the next time we met, and this issuch a fine opportunity. I wish you would."
"Yes; do," Joe chimed in.
But the hermit shook his head. "You are very kind to suggest it," saidhe, "and I am really greatly obliged to you, and to Mr. Crawford also,but I think not. Thank you, all the same; but I'll go back home. So,good-bye."
"Some other time, perhaps," suggested Joe.
"Perhaps--we'll see. By the way, there was one other thing I intended tosay, and that is:--look out for Long John! He is a dangerous man if heis a coward; in fact, all the more dangerous _because_ he is a coward.So now, good-bye; and remember"--holding up a warning finger--"look outfor Long John!"
With that, he slipped his feet into his skis and away he went; while Joeand I turned our own faces homeward.
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